Stargate Equinox
by ripplestone
Summary: Dr. Daniel Jackson is convinced a newly discovered set of Celtic Iron Age coins are glyphs for an undiscovered Stargate somewhere in England which will lead to the discovery of a civilization that could predate the Ancients...
1. Chapter 1

**Stargate: Equinox**

**Chapter One**

**January 2015**

**A field somewhere in Wiltshire, England**

'You would hardly know it's there.' The thought fills the abstract space in Rob's head and focuses his attention back to the metal detector. He tended to zone out when working a field and this one, stretching out over the floor of a valley nestling in the shadow of the Wiltshire Plains, was a featureless, treeless expanse of ploughed chalky flint and scree. What had caught his eye while his mind was elsewhere? Rob backtracks a few paces and then sees it. A shallow depression in the ground, barely visible. Too small to be a dry dew pond. An old well maybe? Rob runs the metal detector head slowly over the shallow depression not expecting to get anything and so when the the low beep of the detector changes to a high whine he is taken aback. The hairs on the back of his neck rise, not just with the thought of a find but as though he is being watched. He stops and looks round half expecting to see someone but he is alone in the field under a grey sky. He marks the spot with a small red flag on a tent peg and then rummages through his backpack for the trowel he carries at all times.

Dropping to his knees, Rob starts to slowly clear away the soil around the red flag and, after a minute or two the first coin appears. Within an hour Robert 'Rob' Bowden has uncovered over a thousand silver and gold coins and there seems to be more and more, the deeper he digs. After another hour, the largest hoard of Iron Age coins ever found lies in the folds of his parka coat and, with numb fingers in the chill, darkening air, Rob carries on digging, uncovering more coins here and there until the dull scrape of metal stops him. In the failing light of dusk he can just make out a small metal box, lead maybe, and then the soil gives way to the solid chalk bedrock running under the field and up onto the plains. He carefully loosens the box from the chalk and tries to open it but it holds fast. Rob glances around him, night is falling, only a thin rim of light remains on the western horizon and he glances at his watch, 4.20pm. Time to call it a day. He makes a note of the GPS position on his phone and, carefully folding in the edges of his parka he tries to pick it up but the find is far too heavy for one person and the coat edges pull apart, spilling the coins out across the ploughed ground. Rob swears softly to himself. The light is gone and he can't walk out with the coins on his own, he has no option but to call it in. It means he will have to declare the find. More than likely it will be classed as treasure and end up in the hands of a museum, he'll be lucky if he sees half the proceeds from the land owner. He shakes his head and sighs, then, without knowing why, pockets the small lead box and dials the emergency find number for a local metal detector group.

**February 2015  
>Department of Coins &amp; Medals, The British Museum.<strong>

Agnes Dale pauses for a second, glancing down the long illuminated table in the middle of room at the hoard of coins, each one in its own small glass case. Over two hundred gold coins, nine hundred silver and copper alloy coins and several hundred unclassified coins, either too damaged to identify easily or simply of unknown origin. All of them Celtic Iron Age dating from between 400BC and 100BC. A hoard of coins this large and of this period in time is an unprecedented find. It had become a media sensation, not least of all because the hoard very nearly could have disappeared into the black market. It was simply the size and scale of the find meant a local detectorist group became involved and they had the sense to contact the local coroner to register it. The young man who found the hoard is now nowhere to be found, perhaps scared off by the media interest or the legal process, so for now, her job is too assess the coins and issue PAS numbers and index and catalogue them. An independent committee will establish their likely worth and then the museum can buy them from the landowner. Why the young man hasn't stepped forward to claim the find rights is surprising but if he was working unregistered and alone maybe he feared prosecution for trespass or worse. Agnes' attention is drawn back to the table and its glittering treasure. She pulls on a pair of gloves and smiles, her eyes drawn to the section of damaged and unknown coins.

**February 2015**

**Inside the University Office of Dr. Daniel Jackson, America.**

'Oh, Professor Jackson, before you go, there's another email. What should I do?'

'Email?...from who?' Daniel pauses at the door of his office and distractedly runs a hand over his thinning hair.

'The British Museum woman.' Louise, his secretary, taps her screen in front of her. 'Agnes Dale.'

'Again?'

'Yes, again, what do you want me to do, she keeps emailing these pictures of coins.'

'Coins?'

'Yes,... coins.' Louise smiles and shrugs her shoulders.

'But I know nothing about coins, I'm a language specialist, can't you put her off?'

'Again?'

'Yes, again and I'm going to be very late for my lecture, _again_, if I don't go now and you know how much trouble it causes with the Principle. Have you seen my glasses?'

'In your top pocket, oh, and Professor..'

_'Yes!' _

'Your lecture notes are still on your desk.'

'Louise you are a lifesaver!' Dr. Jackson races back in to his office and snatches the notes from his desk just as the Principle of the University arrives. 'Jackson? _Jackson?_ Ah, there you are, I've come to make sure you actually get to your lecture on time this time, you know, fee paying students don't like to be kept waiting...'

'I was just on my way, Principle..I forgot these.'

'We do have the latest multimedia technology, paper notes, so old fashioned, we are a University for the new digital age...'

Louise chuckles to herself as the professor and the Principle make their way down the corridor. Dr. Jackson is the original forgetful professor. She scrolls through the email on the screen in front of her and is about to hit reply when one of the images of a coin catches her eye. It is of a stylised horse. Instead of replying she hits print and, then, seeing the time, closes down her computer and grabs her coat and bag. Wednesday is a half day and she's not paid beyond midday.

On her way out she picks up the print and stares at it. On second thoughts maybe it wasn't a horse, maybe a wolf and she shakes her head and leaves it on the printer tray. Her daughter only collects pictures of horses.

The principle slows his pace as they reach the lecture hall. 'You see, the problem is, Daniel, you add too much other information. Irrelevance is an anathema in the pursuit of academic excellence here. To put it bluntly, your students need to ace their midterms in order for your performance review to be adequate for you to continue here.'

Daniel's jaw drops as he realises what the Principle is saying. 'You mean my job is at risk if my students don't pass?'

'Your job is at risk, period. If your students do badly you're fired. Now, I'm sure they will be fine. But less of the astronomy and... and, space travel and more of the syntax, grammar and verb conjunctions... and no more... as one student so eloquently put it... sci-fi babble. They are not inventing a new language, just trying to get to grips with the roots of this one. Ah, good,' The Principle glances at his watch. 'You are right on time for your lecture today. Make it relevant Dr. Jackson. Make it count!'

Daniel watches him leave and then dejectedly enters the lecture hall, less than half of his students are there and the mid-terms are a week away. Somehow, his return to the academic life is not at all how he imagined it going. He thought it would be easy, retiring from SGC, taking a slower pace of life. Time to reflect and maybe to write. But the rent doesn't pay itself and what can he write about when his time at SGC is bound by military secrecy. So he had taken a well-paid post as a lecturer at the University but, despite his knowledge and language skills, his teaching methods seem to leave a lot to be desired. Giving lectures was never his strong point. He stares at the title on his lecture notes, 'Syllabaries and Logograms of the World, Understanding the Proto-Alphabet of Old English Through the Futhorc Rune Glyphs.' But it neither inspires him with the thought of being fired hanging over his head, or his students, the few there are already either busy texting or half asleep. Perhaps it is time for him to look for a new job.

Later that afternoon, back in his office the phone rings and Daniel calls through to Louise to answer it then, remembering it's her afternoon off, steps through to her desk to intercept the call. The voice at the other end is unfamiliar, with a British accent and at first Daniel wonders if it is a disgruntled parent of one of the students.

'Hello, Dr. Jackson?'

'Uh, um, no... sorry. Dr. Jackson is giving a lecture at the moment. This is his assistant, can I take a message?'

'Oh, I'm sorry, I thought Louise was his secretary...'

'She is, I'm...his research assistant, Dan...David.'

'Oh! I see. Is it possible to speak to Louise?'

'She's not in the office at the moment. Can I take a message?'

'Well, I'm calling from London, it is rather urgent. About some images of coins I've emailed...'

The coin lady! Daniel sighs in relief that he had lied about who he was.

'… I really would love some input on the Celtic glyphs on them from the Professor. Perhaps you could look at them for me, if you are his assistant, David? What is your area of research?'

'I'm afraid I have to go, Mam. There is an important call on the other line. I shall pass on your message to the Professor though.' Daniel can sense his lie is beginning to get legs and does not want to have to explain to a disapproving Louise in the morning about an imaginary assistant called David he invented in order to avoid a phone call. He hangs up abruptly and leans against the wall of Louise's cubicle, spying as he does so, the printout of the coin on the printer tray nearby. It is not the strange horse/wolf image that catches his attention but the line of faint glyphs around the edge of the coin. He grabs the page and peers closely at them. The coin woman is totally wrong, they are not Celtic glyphs at all. In fact, Daniel is pretty certain he's never seen anything like them before anywhere at all, not on Earth nor any other planet he has visited. They are a totally novel set of glyphs. A new language! Or, in this case, a very old new language.

**Department of Coins & Medals, The British Museum.**

Agnes throws her phone onto the table and paces up and down in anger. She is sure that the 'assistant' is actually the Professor himself, she's seen a video clip of him on the University website and the voice was a match. How infuriating! She glances at her watch, nearly midnight. Far too late to catch the Tube home now, she would work throughout the night and leave early, before the Museum opens. Out of the hundreds damaged and unknown coins she has extracted a set of twelve that do not fit any known language or coin system from the iron age. It is this set she had emailed to the professor for advice about the strange glyphs, neither Celtic nor Gaulish nor, indeed any other early language from over two thousand years ago.

**On Whitehorse Hill, Berkshire, England.**

Robert 'Rob' Bowden stands on the brow of the Whitehorse Hill, just above the famous white horse carved onto its side. All around the wild winter wind rushes and the glow of the chalk carving below is eerily picked out by the starlight. He is freezing and hungry, living rough ever since he found the box. All recollection of the hoard of coins is wiped from his mind, only the small lead box is important. He has walked to this point, guided by some strange inner voice calling him to it. Calling him to the white horse. But the word is not 'horse' in his mind. He reaches for a definition, more like... and then he feels it, senses the word fully in his mind. Seeing it take shape, a writhing beast of fire and starlight. A Dragon. The Dragon is calling to him. Commanding him to this very spot under the stars. He opens his mouth and screams the word into the night but the wind whips away his voice before the sound can form around him and the word is lost to the world once more. In his hands the box starts to glow with a glyph of the word he had just screamed and the lid finally loosens in his grip. Rob opens it and lifts out a heavy gold signet ring, stamped with the glyph of the Dragon and places it on his forefinger. Below him the carved outline of the white horse on the hill convulses and the ground beneath his feet starts to shake and without a doubt in his mind Rob knows he is now and for all eternity in the command of this fabulous creature awakening at his feet.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

**Inside the University Office of Dr. Daniel Jackson, America.**

Dr Daniel Jackson stares at the twelve prints of the coins, spread out across his desk. They are remarkable. Each coin has a set of twelve worn glyphs running around the edge, barely discernible with the naked eye. In the centre of each coin is a labyrinth symbol. Each coin has a different set of glyphs, despite the set having the same central motif. A thought occurs to Daniel and he gathers up the prints and strides over to a whiteboard in the corner of his office and wipes away the old notes on it. Then, he carefully transcribes the sets of symbols in lines, one directly below the next until he has one hundred and forty four glyphs. Immediately it is obvious that, while some of the glyphs repeat within the subsets, each subset is unique within the larger square.

They are like the Stargate cartouches. The thought is immediately in his head, despite the extra glyphs. But an address for a Stargate only needs at most nine glyphs. Why twelve? And the labyrinth symbol is confusing, most examples of coins with it are from the Mediterranean and the labyrinth is square on those coins, not circular, like these are. Could it be some elaborate hoax? More questions swirl in Daniel's head as he stares at the prints. In fact, so many questions that it becomes imperative to have the answers and without thinking too clearly he finds himself dialling the international code and then the direct number for Agnes Dale.

Agnes sighs to herself as her phone starts to rumble and vibrate on the table where she'd thrown it not twenty minutes before, she picks it up and presses the incoming call button only to start in surprise at the voice at the other end. 'Hello? This is Dr. Daniel Jackson, you sent me through a set of coins to look at?' The voice is unmistakably the voice of his assistant 'David'. Clearly Dr. Jackson had had a change of heart regarding the coins. Agnes smiles to herself and replies. 'Hello, Dr. Jackson, yes I did send through a full set. Interesting aren't they?'

'Extraordinary was the more the word that came to mind!'

'Well, that too. Do you recognise the language, I thought maybe a new runic inscription...'

'Not runes. Not runes... no...'

Agnes could sense a reticence, as though he knew what they were but didn't want to tell her. His next sentence caught her off guard.

'Agnes, I would very much like to meet up with you and see these coins and where they were found.'

'What! Now?' She asks, kicking herself at the obvious stupidity of her remark.

'I will have to clear a window in my calendar... but yes, as soon as possible.' Daniel ruefully expected that clearing a window would actually be him handing in his notice at the University but he did not elaborate to Agnes. Agnes is stunned by his reaction. It slowly dawns on her that the coins are possibly a history-changing find. This could be a career defining moment for her. 'That would be fine, I mean... I am sure any input you would like to give would be... fine.'

'Good. I'll email my itinerary through and call you once I am in London... the Museum is in London?'

'Yes Dr. Jackson, the museum is in London.' And with that Daniel hangs up and starts stuffing the prints, his notebooks and spare glasses into his battered leather hold-all, pausing briefly to scribble 'I resign' onto a Post-It note and stick it onto the door of his office as he leaves. If he was quick, he could just make the last flight out to London tonight.

**The hoard site in Wiltshire, England**

Forty-eight hours later, Agnes is driving her banana yellow Smart car along a narrow lane bordering the field where the coin hoard had been found. Just up ahead she could see a streamer of orange hazard tape fluttering out from a makeshift gate in the hedgerow. 'That's the site entrance.' She glances at her companion, Dr. Jackson, clutching his briefcase, glasses sliding on his nose, receding hair silver in the bright winter sunlight. The journey from London had taken a couple of hours and they had exhausted all topics of conversation about the coins, the weather, his flight over from the States, his job, her job. They had lapsed into a comfortable silence filled by the radio for the traffic news. '...An earthquake measuring 4.2 on the Richter Scale, recorded two nights ago in Berkshire has caused considerable damage to the White Horse carving and Dragon Hill. Estimates put the cost of refacing and repairing the iconic carved prehistoric image at one million pounds as the whole hillside will need stabilising. Locals felt the tremor at around... '

'Earthquakes?'

'Yes, the UK gets quite a few, we are a bit of an earthquake hotspot, but luckily all minor, nothing major. Shame about the White Horse, a beautiful piece of archaeology.' Agnes pulls up into a small lay-by beside the entrance to the field. 'This is it.'

A few minutes later they are standing in the field near an area cordoned off with orange plastic safety net. Daniel stands and surveys the field sweeping away across the valley. To the north is the shoulder of a hill. He nods towards it and Agnes replies before he can ask his question.

'The start of the Downs. Wiltshire Plain runs up over the high ground from here, famous for Stonehenge of course. The general census of opinion is the coins originated from there. Perhaps collected over time from the site in the distant past and buried here for safekeeping. But so far, no literature or reference has been found to corroborate the theory.'

'An odd place to bury them. There's no remarkable features nearby.'

'Maybe there was once. Springs often well up along valley bottoms around here, perhaps there was a well, or a stream once.' But even as Agnes is talking she knows it sounds far-fetched. The field is as plain as a blank page with no signs of ever being anything other than a field.

'So how far away is Stonehenge?'

'Not far... we can go and have a look if you like. There has been some interesting new research there recently, regarding the wider landscape.'

Agnes and Daniel head back to her car and leave the field to its deep, brooding silence under the winter sky.

**On Whitehorse Hill, Berkshire, England.**

The Dragon Hill mound is missing half of one side. As though someone has taken a giant spoon to a giant pudding. The thought does nothing to help Commander Jack O'Neill's mood. Bad enough to be standing on a cold hillside in the middle of England, even worse to have been bought out of what was turning into a comfortable retirement to 'keep tabs' on Dr. Daniel Jackson. Stargate Command, after intercepting a series of strange emails between Daniel and the British Museum, had called him up and, since he was travelling around Europe, asked if he would see what Daniel was up to. So far, all he had done is drive around the countryside with Agnes. The earthquake seems far more interesting and Jack had decided to take a detour to see the site while Daniel and Agnes drove around Wiltshire. The small locating device he had placed on her Smart car would send their locations to his phone.

The earthquake had blurred the chalk horse into a shattered mess. All along the hilltop people are taking photos and TV crews are lining up to get a good view. Jack blends into the crowd and watches as nearby a troop of army cadets are cordoning off the site and moving people away from the still treacherous edge. To Jack it looks as though something has tried to claw its way out of the ground and then he notices him. A little way off. Sunlight glinting on something he is holding, a small box maybe. He is the only person in the area not looking or filming the damage to the hillside. Instead the young man is staring directly up at the sky. Jack glances skywards, half expecting to see a plane or a radio controlled drone but the sky is empty. Something about the young man is familiar and Jack casually wanders nearer to him to get a closer look. And then he realises it is the young man who found the hoard of coins, he recognises him from the SGC file. He gets to a few feet away from him and then asks softly. 'Rob. Rob Bowden?'

Rob swivels round at the sound of his name. It had been a real risk to return here and now he had been recognised. He slips the metal box into his pocket and glares at Jack. 'What do you want?'

Jack catches a glimpse of the heavy gold ring on his finger just before Rob thrusts his hands and whatever he is holding deep into his pockets.

'Nothing, I just thought I recognised you from the TV.' Jack smiles and turns to indicate to the fractured hill. 'Quite a spectacle eh? So, are you looking for more coins that might have been unearthed?' But his question falls into empty space as, in the second he turns away, Rob Bowden sets off at a sprint down the hill. Jack watches him run and decides to let him go, pondering over the gold ring and the small box like object he had glimpsed. His phone beeps and Jack glances at the location tracker info. Daniel and Agnes had arrived at Stonehenge.

**At Stonehenge**

The stones are a cool grey in the cold, low winter sun. Here and there a rook picks at the ground as sheep nibble the grass to a neat lawn. Somehow the henge seems smaller, more ordinary than Daniel expected. Agnes sighs and stands in front of the guide fence separating them from the stones. 'Every time I visit it seems to shrink, they want to build an underground road, get rid of all the traffic. The stones seem more and more vulnerable each year.' Daniel glances across to the nearby A303 road, snaking its way past with slow moving traffic.

'So, can we get any closer to them?'

'Not without permission. At the solstices you can, you know, Druids and suchlike but, well, without prior notice I don't think we'll have any luck.'

Daniel wanders on farther around the stone circles. He can't help but see an immediate similarity with the sarsens in their trilithon horseshoe shape and the Stargate rings but why would a prehistoric culture know how to build a Stargate when there is no evidence that Ra ever visited anywhere other than Egypt on Earth. And why place it horizontally off the ground, rather than vertically? And the stones are worn smooth and the ring is broken... his thoughts are interrupted by Agnes. 'There's a new visitor centre, we can get a cup of tea and ask about getting closer to the stones. Get out of this cold.' He smiles and nods in agreement and they walk back past the groups of tourists and sheep towards the centre.

The new interactive displays hold Daniel's attention while Agnes uses her Museum credentials at the desk to see if she can get them entry to the stones but to no avail. As she thought, without prior agreement, they could not get direct access to the stones.

The history of the area is extraordinary and Daniel retrieves a small notebook from his pocket and starts to make notes. 'You could probably just download the app, you know.' Agnes' voice at his side makes him jump. 'Sorry?'

'There's a phone app for that...never mind, how about a cup of tea? Seems there's no chance of getting near the stones till the equinox.'

'The equinox?'

'Yes, we tend all tend to think of the summer and winter solstice as the important festivals here in modern times but there's also the spring and autumn equinoxes, days of equal length, the next one is on the twenty-first of March this year.'

'The henges were built around 3000BC.'

'Yes, yes. Quite incredible. Of course we have other stone circles and henges scattered across the UK but nothing quite like Stonehenge.' She stirs her cup of tea and watches as Dr. Jackson makes more notes in his book. The site seems to have piqued his interest. 'So, do you think the coins originated from here?' she asks, keeping her voice low so as not to be overheard.

Daniel pauses in his note making and smiles at her, leaning forward to reply 'I don't think they originated here, no but I think there is a reason that Stonehenge is here and it is related to those coins.. I just haven't quite...'

'Joined up all the dots?' An unmistakeable voice cuts across his answer and Daniel jumps in surprise, spilling his tea over his notes, as Commander Jack O'Neill pulls up a chair and sits astride it, arms resting on the back. 'How do you do, I'm Commander Jack O'Neill...' He offers a hand to shake to Agnes and she takes it bemusedly shaking it while watching Daniel's alarmed reaction to this new stranger. '..don't mind Daniel, he's very clumsy. We used to work together, a few years back.'

'You worked for the military? I didn't know.' Agnes can feel there is a lot more she doesn't know about these two men.

'How did you know I was here?' Bypassing all formalities, Daniel asks Jack the question directly, still mopping away the spilt tea.

'Well, you know the military... we were monitoring your emails and..'

'You spy on Dr. Jackson? You're allowed to do that?' Agnes is shocked at the idea.

'But how did you know I'd be _here_, now?' Daniel asks again, sure that the Commander is hiding something.

'Well, I might have put a tracker on your vehicle...'

'You bugged my car? _Now just a minute,_ by who's authority _exactly_ do you have to...' Agnes could feel her voice rising in volume and people were beginning to take notice of the three of them.

Jack cuts across her, his voice changing to steely cold.

'I think it's time we move to somewhere more private. I can explain exactly by who's authority on the way. Let's go.' He stands up and gestures to the door and Agnes is about to argue when she realises Daniel is following the Commander, she is left with no option but to follow the pair of them out of the café and over to an unmarked military Jeep. _'_But what about my car?' Agnes asks climbing into the back seat alongside Daniel.

'It'll be fine, I'll have someone pick it up later.' And with that Commander O'Neill drives off, at some speed towards some unknown destination.


End file.
